


stuffed koalas and love will save the world (plus patrick kane)

by pistol_red



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Gen, M/M, Robots, Stupidity, Terminator AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistol_red/pseuds/pistol_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So he was gonna save the world and all that, stop the fire and brimstone from engulfing the planet and leading Earth into a new age of The Machines. Or something like that, Patrick didn't really like thinking about it all that much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stuffed koalas and love will save the world (plus patrick kane)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a terrible, mangled mess of a Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles AU in which Patrick Kane is the future savior of mankind or something. Yeah, I know. There's quite a bit of swearing in this story as well as some traumatic memories but I don't really think there's anything in here triggering(let me know if I'm wrong). This is deeply awful and I can't write, I also don't know how any school system in the entire world works. I'm sorry for inflicting this upon the lovely people of the Hockey RPF fandom.
> 
> This story weirdly enough has spoilers for the outcome of the short story The Lottery, written by Shirley Jackson.

So he was gonna save the world and all that, stop the fire and brimstone from engulfing the planet and leading Earth into a new age of The Machines. Or something like that, Patrick didn’t really like thinking about it all that much.

“You know how much a formal education matters, Patrick; we’ve talked about this,” his mom said, sighing deeply as she paused from cutting her onions to look up at him, “You need to have…well, social skills and normal….experiences in your life.”

Patrick still wasn’t sure how high school was going to help him save the world and lead the revolution or whatever, but his mom had always been really insistent that he attend anyway. Even knowing that though, he wasn’t going to pass up a chance to try and get out of school because _come on,_ he could be hanging out with grandpa right now. 

“Mom, come on, can’t I just go shoot targets with grandpa instead?” It was worth a try. School was boring, and grandpa was awesome. Plus his mom always appreciated when Patrick and his sisters took the initiative to practice blowing shit up and stuff. It made mom feel safe, Patrick thought, knowing her kids could wreck some shit up, plus she knew how much grandpa meant to Patrick and how rarely he got to see him.

Mom closed her eyes briefly before saying, “Just do this for me, Patrick, please.” Which, like seriously, was not even at all fair because mom knew that he couldn’t actually say no to her requests and holy fuck, was she crying?

Her eyes were a little teary and Patrick shrank in on himself almost immediately before remembering the partially cut onions sitting on the counter and he shouted indignantly, glaring at mom, she was so exploitive, seriously.

She just shrugged shamelessly and raised an eyebrow, “Well kiddo,” she said, “I think it’s about time for you to head to school, don’t you think.”

Patrick felt like squawking outrageously but his mom’s eyes were still a little wet and Patrick didn’t want to make her upset for real so, “Yeah, yeah,” he said, already planning on meeting up with grandpa right after school got out.

Patrick, Erica, Jess and Jackie all attended school whenever they could, wherever they were. They all thought this was pretty stupid but mom insisted, saying that they were harder to find in schools because no one thought they’d be stupid enough to actually go to school while planning for the upcoming apocalypse or something. Which just confused Patrick but whatever, mom’s a genius so he'll go with it.

They’re currently in Canada, Winnipeg of all places, under their fake family name (Jacobs) and attending some Canadian school that Patrick doesn’t really pay attention to expect occasionally on math tests (because hey, why not) and to send messages to Erica through a secret spy system that they made which is loads of fun if not somewhat complicated and stupid for the post-apocalyptic world. Whatever, it’s totally fun and mom lets them learn things just for fun because mom appreciates fun things, fun is good, he’s not wasting his time, grandma, thank you very much. He and Erica and are broadening their minds and stuff.

Patrick doesn’t really think his life is that bad, even if his aunts and uncles will look at him kind of pityingly and his cousin will slap him on the shoulder and say, “Responsibility bro, I feel you, I can’t even handle taking care of the hamsters,” whenever they get together with the extended family at the shooting range. Sure he’s gotta save the world and all that, but that’s not for like, _years_. Besides, he stopped getting killer robots sent after him when he was like, twelve, for whatever reason, sure it’s kinda weird but he’s not going to question why killer robots aren’t chasing after him. So really, everything’s been mostly chill for the past few years. They move around a lot still, and go under fake names, they’re not _morons,_ but mostly they just train and shut shit down and research crap about new computers and whatever crazy new scientists who just don’t know when to quit it are inventing. It’s always the crazy fucking scientists. They’re the worst, Patrick prefers people who are like, ballerinas and actors and singers because at least they _don’t destroy the world_  with their creations. Mostly, anyway. He told as much to his mom but she just had laughed at him and said, “Pat, honey, you’re a scientist.” And well, yeah, but that’s only out of like, necessity. And fun. He’ll admit its kinda fun, just not in front of anybody, even though he’s pretty sure his sisters know if that fact that Erica got him a chemistry kit titled, “How to Blow Stuff Up” for his birthday and a lab coat was anything to go by. 

Still though, things are calmer now than they used to be. And the Kane clan can relax a lot more now, maybe even joke about the upcoming war and the decade old attempts on their lives while they sit around the dinner table. Patrick has always been taught by his family to just take everything in stride and not let life get you down, so he’ll laugh and joke about it, and if sometimes he wakes up gasping in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and tears, trembling so hard his bed’s shaking, trying desperately to get rid of the images of his family burning in front of him while cold steel hands wrap around his neck and choke all the air out of his body, well, Patrick figures, he’ll take it. It could be worse.

Pat kind of can’t believe that he takes the bus to school. But well, what can you do? His mom’s has too much going on to drive them anywhere and the other car is grandpa's and grandpa needs it to like, chase after thieves and stuff. Grandpa is like mom, they both do a lot of cool stuff in their day jobs.

Patrick is sitting in the window seat of the bus next to Erica, glancing outside at the boring landscape before sighing lightly to himself; Winnipeg. It’s definitely not his favorite place they’ve been to, Buffalo, his home and the greatest city in the whole fucking world, thank you, has that honor, and next probably someplace warm with a lot of sunshine and beach parties. Like California, or Florida. But well, they’ve lived in Canada before, and even though Pat hasn’t skated half as much as he wishes he could, hockey is a fucking _awesome_ sport. Anyone with eyes can see that. Jess is scared of ice rinks though, after they got attacked on one when they were little and Patrick was almost killed by a particularly stupid terminator. They got it to lose its balance on the ice and then they went at it with their skates and emergency tool belts that their mom has them wear at all times so it ended up in the Kane Family Victories. Jess still doesn’t like it though. Patrick can’t really blame her; he hates greenhouses for similar reasons.

Erica nudged him suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. They’re at school already, Patrick must have zoned out. He does that sometimes. It can get a little annoying if, you know, something's blowing up or something. He's fine at staying focused, he just might not notice what'd happening if he's deep enough in his own head. 

Erica rolled her eyes at him and gestured to follow her off the bus, them being some of the last kids to get off. The bus driver sighed when Patrick passed her, looking at his Hawaiian shirt, which fuck the haters, was  _totally awesome._

The immediate October chill hit him as he stepped off the bus and he hunched in on himself to try to preserve body heat as Erica grabbed his hand and pulled him up the steps and into the school.

Patrick is not ashamed of holding hands with his sister in public. It’s not like any friends he makes last very long before they have to pack up and move again, following a different leead, so he kind of bristles if people mock him for being close with his sisters. Like fuck you man, Erica was the one who ran into the killer robot infested forest to save me and Jackie was the one who woke me up when I was screaming and couldn’t take watching people die anymore, so really, fuck you. His sisters were awesome.

When they made it to an intersection in the hallways Erica spun around and grabbed his shoulders saying, “Now remember the new escape plan. The one with the stickers and watermelon. Also, make friends, your last name is Jacobs and try to play some hockey while you’re here, we are in Canada after all. Also, you got sound Canadian; we’re Canadian now, eh?”

Patrick rolled his eyes, they’ve only been doing this since _forever._ “Yeah Erica,” he said, “I’ll make sure to play hockey, make friends and sound lame. Eh?”

Erica rolled her eyes and for a moment Patrick thought they were going to get into an eye rolling contest, which he could _totally_ beat her at even if he wasn't sure what constituted as winning, before Erica just sighed and waved goodbye before headed off to her class.

Here’s the thing: it’s not that Patrick can’t be on his own or anything, he’s totally not a wuss, but having all your sisters be in different grades then you kinda sucks. It especially sucks if there’s always a chance that anyone in your family could be in mortal danger at any given minute and you just have to sit there discussing _The Scarlet Letter_ because your mom feels guilty about your gun, death and explosion filled childhood and wants you to experience normalcy, not seeming to get that explosions _are the best thing ever_ and if Patrick can take a break every now and then and catch a romantic comedy with Erica at the theaters then that’s really all he needs _._

He may have tried to flunk his classes when he was little so that he could be in the same class as Erica though. Erica had just rolled her eyes at him and called him needy while his mom explained the importance of learning things for yourself and being independent. Whatever, so he has emotional needs, and it’s not like mom hadn’t given him extra cake that night and Erica hadn’t decided to have a sleepover in his room so whatever, he totally won that argument even if they ended up in separate classes after all. 

Though Patrick’s only been going to this school for about five days, he’s already dreading his first class as he makes his way through the school and enters Mr. Sharp’s classroom.

Mr. Sharp, or _Sharpy,_ as he tells them to call him, and really, what kind of teacher calls himself Sharpy? Does he think that will make him popular with the teenagers or something? Because _it won’t._ And _he’s not._ At all.

Patrick makes his way to his desk and Sharpy spots him, beaming. Patrick feels a dull flush spread across his face. Okay, so like, Sharpy’s hot, annoyingly hot, ridiculously hot, and maybe it makes this class awkward for Patrick because inopportune boners are always awkward. Not that there’s really ever been any time in Patrick’s life where a boner has been opportune though, as much as it sucks to admit, moving constantly and always hanging out his your sisters does limit what happens in your love life. But whatever man, he’s got his hand, and Ryan Gosling.

Sharpy smiles with teeth showing and asks his class, “So, have you all written your interpretations of _The Lottery_?” He finishes with a small hair tosh and a girl in the front row giggles a little and swoons. Patrick can’t blame her, if he was that close he’d probably be swooning too.

“We have, sir,” Michael the suck up answers.

Sharpy smiles over the class, a glint in his eye, “Good,” he said, “Because today should be an interesting lesson for you all. First off, I’d like to welcome a new student, please welcome our new transfer, Jonathan Toes.”

The class politely clapped as a tall brown haired boy walks in and says, “It’s _Tayves,_ not Toes.” Sharpy just raises an amused eyebrow and Patrick can’t help but think that he knew that all along, he's a douche like that. And that's not a hot look on Mr. Sharp. It totally isn't. Even at all. 

“Well, Toes,” he said brightly, “Why don’t you go take a seat while the class discusses our interpretations?”

Toews just glares before nodding once in acknowledgement and making his way towards the empty desk on the other side of the classroom. Patrick shrugs to himself and turns his attention back to Sharpy and the class is off, everyone being vocal about their pretty strong feelings about the short story. Patrick was glad it wasn’t only him that was traumatized, seriously, a nice idyllic day that ends in someone getting stoned to death. It was a little traumatizing. Patrick thinks he could work that as like, a deep metaphor for his family’s journey and his life or something.

He feels a prickling on the back of his neck during his inner monologue about stoning and deep metaphors, and, if he’s learned anything from years of experience, it’s to trust your instincts; he’s being watched.

Patrick glances quickly around the room and his eyes land on Toews who’s just….staring at him, not even trying to hide it even a little, dark brown eyes boring into him.

‘What the hell man,’ Patrick mouths back at him but he just stares for another second before turning away and facing the front of the room again.

Patrick shrugs it off and spends the rest of the lesson fantasizing about Sharpy bending him over his knee. He’s a little ashamed of this, but not ashamed enough to stop doing it, so, well.

His lessons continue and though Toews is in his other classes too, Patrick never catches him staring at him again.

By the time lunch rolls around Patrick is starving and heads into the cafeteria with jubilation in his step, surveying the scene for Erica and pizza. He doesn’t see Erica, but he does see pizza, so it’s a partial win.

He sat down at a random empty table on one side of the cafeteria and was preparing to get all up close and personal with his slice before someone loudly clears their throat in front of him.

Patrick looks up and is greeted by the sight of Jonathan Toews. He's awkwardly holding a lunch tray with a carton of milk and a salad on it, and staring down at Patrick like he’s not exactly sure what to say next.

“Dude, what?” Patrick said, it’s not like this guy had insulted him or anything, he just seemed really lame.

“Can I sit here?” Toews asked in a monotone, motioning at the chair opposite Patrick.

“Uh…sure?” Patrick answered, because well, Erica did tell him to make friends even if the friends are weird Canadians who have no social skills. Not everyone can be as nice and outgoing as Patrick anyway, he’s being fucking giving here.

Toews sits down in the chair and doesn’t do anything, doesn’t eat, he just sits there and looks at Patrick and yeah, he’s kinda hot but that doesn’t make him not creepy, he’s not like, Edward Cullen levels of hot or anything.

“Okay seriously, Toews,” Patrick starts but is almost immediately interrupted, “Johnny.”

“Huh?” Patrick said eloquently.

“Johnny,” Toews, Johnny repeats, “You can call me Johnny.”

“Oh, okay then, hi Johnny,” Patrick said.

Johnny looked at him blankly, “Hi.”

Screw it, he should just try making friends with this guy, his mom will be happy if he meets someone not related to the certain upcoming doom and misery in his life.

Well, Johnny was Canadian and Patrick loved hockey so he gave it a shot, “So, hockey. It's awesome, right.”

Patrick swore something lit up in Johnny’s eyes immediately after that and the two of them spent the rest of lunch arguing over who sucked more, the Sabres or the Jets and it was awesome enough that Patrick didn’t really feel annoyed that Erica had decided to sit with some new friends of hers instead of with him.

-

After the slightly awkward lunch Patrick and Johnny became fast friends. Johnny was an anal retentive control freak that had trouble grasping jokes and mostly seemed interested in hockey and everything physical ever, but well, he wasn't that bad. Patrick was totally behind most things he liked, he had always wanted to try skiing himself.

Everything was pretty calm back at the house, mom would sometimes leave for a few days, tracing down some new information with grandpa and Patrick and his sisters would be left at the house together with about seventy guns, one hundred explosives and an emergency number to call if anyone was dying.

Halloween came and went and Patrick was really starting….to well, like it here.  He liked his school, or well, he liked the jerk off fantasies that Mr. Sharp provided just by existing. And he liked Johnny. He really lied Johnny. He was dumb and annoying yeah, but still a lot more fun than Patrick had originally given him credit for. 

They went skating together, and it was the first time skating for Patrick in years and he had never felt better than he did on the ice in that moment, wobbly and all, with Johnny.

He kind of wants to kiss Johnny. And worse than that he wants to like, meet Johnny’s parents who are always out of town and he wants to like, go on dates with Johnny, and hold hands and stuff.

It kind of sucks. Because Johnny sucks.

 

-

 

It takes about living in Winnipeg for a month or so before everything decides to go to hell.

Mom’s gone with grandpa and Jess, so it’s just Patrick, Erica and Jackie at home and Erica's friend Lucy invites her to ditch school and go on A Wild Adventure(her words, not Patrick’s but it sounds awesome) and she took Jackie along with her(and guns, obviously). Patrick was invited, but his mom’s totally manipulative tears have a stronger effect on him then Erica or Jackie, so he goes to school anyway, even with Erica rolling her eyes at him. Because well, _mom’s onion-y tears._ Plus Johnny, so well, yeah.

Patrick and Johnny are in gym class. Patrick's trying to get Johnny to agree to watch The Notebook with him, and he thinks he’s making a pretty convincing argument when a middle age man he hasn’t seen before strides in and says, “Hello boys and girls, Mr. Henricks couldn’t make it today, but I am your substitute teacher! Pierre McGuire. Let’s all get those young bodies of yours and put them to work! But first with the attendance, of course.”

Patrick glanced at Johnny, who was eyeing Pierre strangely, which yeah, he was kinda creepy and weird for a gym teacher. They're usually slightly less creepy, in Patrick's expereince, at least. 

“Patrick Jacobs?”

Patrick realized that that was for him and turned to say ‘here’, confused as to why his name was being called so early before being cut off by Pierre’s voice interrupting him and saying sharply, watching him closely for a reaction, “Patrick Kane?”

Patrick froze in his place, his blood turning to ice and before he could even think, _run, leave, hide;_ Pierre McGuire had pulled out a gun and was firing straight at him.

There was pandemonium all throughout the gym and all Patrick could think was, _now? Why now? No,_ as he felt himself running out of the room on autopilot, Johnny holding his arm in a death grip and practically dragging him outside with his larger, faster strides.

There was yelling and screaming coming from all over the school but Patrick new Erica wasn’t there so he didn’t stop to think until Johnny manhandled him into his pickup truck’s passenger seat, getting into driver’s seat himself, and barreling out of the parking lot at top speed.

Patrick breathed deeply into his hands for a minute, trying to get control of his breathing, _Erica's not there, it's okay, you're out, Johnny's out,_  before sitting up and turning to Johnny, his stomach lurching suddenly and his body freezing in horror at what he saw. 

Johnny was hit. Johnny was bleeding. _How did Patrick not notice that?_ Oh god he had been shot in the chest. Patrick started at the wounds and his eyes blurred as thoughts flew threw his head, _I got him killed. No, not Johnny please, oh my god. I’m sorry._

Patrick’s eyes refocused as he registered with a sudden shock that Johnny was still calmly driving, and he hadn’t made a sound. Patrick stared at the wound again and his stomach turned, but for entirely different reasons. He saw metal. Through the cuts in Johnny’s shirt, past the torn skin and smeared blood there was undoubtedly hard, cold metal, and nothing else.

Patrick felt his lunch rush up his throat as he vomited unceremoniously on the floor of Johnny’s truck with the smallest sense of satisfaction before reaching for the door, possibly dying from leaping out of a car driving at a high speed be dammed before Johnny jerked over and grabbed onto his wrist, looked at him and said, “Stay with me if you want to live.”

Patrick blinked at him for a minute, one hand clutching the truck’s door, with Johnny slowly releasing his left wrist. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. _He-it's not here to kill me_. Patrick focused on that thought for a moment before nodding stiffly at Johnny and leaning back into his seat.  _  
_

Here’s the thing with Patrick and terminators, it’s, it’s not like he hasn’t met a nice terminator before. He has, once. It’s hard to forget a little frail looking old lady with a walker who could bench press a semi and who pulled you out of a burning warehouse, seared and crying, fumes choking you, holding onto you tight and telling you in a flat, clear voice, “I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’ll protect you.”

It’s just; he’s met more bad ones. A lot more bad ones. And a shiver of horror travels through him when he realized that he had been in the company of a terminator for over a month and had never recognized it. Which really upon retrospect, was stupid Patrick thought, because Johnny was a really fucking obvious robot.

“You suck at being a robot, dude.” It was all he could think to say.

Johnny's jaw clenched and he said, “I know.”

They were silent for the rest of the drive home. 

-

When they got back to the house Patrick barreled through all the rooms but Erica and Jackie weren’t back yet. He found himself relieved, because really, who the fuck knows what killer robots know about you and where you live.

“Pack up guns and ammo,” Johnny said from behind him, “We’re leaving in five minutes.”

Patrick felt a faint flicker of annoyance; _he_ was the future savoir of like, man and womankind here. But then again, a robot probably doesn’t appreciate that much.  “Jackie and Erica,” was all he said, because there was no way _in hell_ he was leaving without them.

“We’ll go get them,” Johnny responded immediately. Okay, Patrick thought, I can do that.

The next ten and it was totally ten not five, minutes were spent running around the house and grabbing anything that Patrick thought they’d need. He got a little choked up, looking at Erica’s koala stuffed animal and picturing leaving it behind before saying fuck that and taking it too.

He came across Johnny standing by the front door, mostly guns and ammo pilled around him(Patrick really didn't want to know why he knew where everything was) and when he saw Patrick he just stared. Patrick stared too, because it hit him at that moment that his best friend for the past month was standing in his doorway, bloody and injured, _and a terminator. What the fuck._

Johnny said suddenly, breaking the mood, “Stuffed animals, really?”

Patrick may have hurled anything he found to have sentimental value down the stairs to take with them, whatever man, sentimental value is the most important value. He told Johnny this defiantly; knowing how he wouldn’t get it but figuring that a robot wouldn’t mock him for it too much. Patrick forgot that this robot was Johnny.

After Johnny mocked him (and who the fuck programmed him, really) Patrick and Johnny came to an agreement. Patrick could take one garbage full of stuff with sentimental value, and no more. Patrick found this reasonable if not annoying and soulless and put a mixture of stuffed animals, dolls and drawings, getting a little choked up when he realized that he wouldn’t be taking the big yellow ball that Erica taught him about karate kicks with, and who was the main character in Jess and Patrick’s epic saga, “The Twilight Years: Love as a Golden Ball”. Patrick resolutely stuffed the last things into the bag and turned to face Johnny.

Johnny was looking at his teary eyes with disbelief, Patrick swore. But fuck him, seriously, he doesn’t have a family, he doesn’t get it.

Patrick didn't waste time and got into the truck, clenching his teeth; it was just a ball, okay, seriously he said to himself as Johnny loaded the last of the bags into the back of the pickup and out of the corner of his eyes Patrick saw some Barbie’s, balls, and most importantly, the big yellow ball, being dumped in the back.

While Johnny got into the driver’s seat and turned on the truck, Patrick just stared at him.

“What?” Johnny said, shifting slightly.

“You brought along all the stuff?” Patrick asked.

Johnny stared at him for a moment, his jaw twitching, before saying, “The second we need more room it’s out of here.”

Patrick beamed at him. “I take it back, you totally don’t suck as a robot.” Johnny just glanced awkwardly at Patrick and then back to the steering wheel again before saying, “Well yeah. Obviously.” Even though it totally contradicted what he said earlier Patrick was in too good a mood to call him out on his robot cockiness.

-

“So,” Patrick asked after about ten minutes of driving, “Hockey?”

“What about it?” Johnny asked, and jeez he even sounded more alert just mentioning it, which like, Patrick got but Johnny was _a robot_.

“I mean, well, why do you …like hockey? Being…you know, you...robot.”

Johnny just stared at the road, confusion coloring his features before saying, “Why wouldn’t I like hockey?”

Patrick just looked at him. “Because…..you’re a robot. You doofus.”

If anything Johnny seemed to get even more confused, “Yes. I’m a terminator. So I like hockey,” like _Patrick_ was the one being weird here.  He assumed he was missing some vital piece of information here but whatever, he was already gathering that he didn’t know jack shit about robots and frankly, if more of them were like Johnny, he might well, still want to go to war with them, but he wouldn't actually cause he'd rather just play hockey with them instead.

“Sometimes when I malfunction,” Johnny said suddenly, “I play football.”

Patrick just stared at him. Right. “…you malfunction often?”

Johnny‘s face made a weird spasm, “….occasionally.”

Patrick would be more concerned if not for what Johnny did when he malfunctioned was play football. I mean, obviously that’s a malfunction, because _hockey,_ duh, but like, at least he doesn’t go running around killing people and eating their eyeballs or something.

“I’m glad you don’t eat people’s eyeballs.”

“How do you know what I eat,” was all Johnny responded with but Patrick was starting to get the feeling that this friendship could still work. Probably only with minor difficulties.

“Let’s hurry up and find my sisters,” Patrick said, and Johnny turned to look at him and he smiled a little, and fuck, robots are not supposed to smile how are they programming them these days and Patrick was hit with a rush of _feelings_ in his stomach, and shit.

Fuck. Well, there were worse robots to fall in love with. Like the ones that were actually out to kill him and possibly eat his eyeballs. So well, as someone who looked on the bright side of life, he reckoned that this could be worse.

They drove off into the late afternoon and Patrick said determinedly, "Here we come evil killer robot! I'm gonna get my sisters and then we're gonna save the world, try and stop us! We're gonna save it with hockey! We're the  _motherfucking Kanes!"_

And like, Johnny may have rolled his robot eyes at that but Patrick knows for a fact that he is 100% behind this saving the world through hockey plan. It'll be awesome.

 


End file.
